


on being a hero and being saved

by the_bourgeoisie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bill gets in a fight, Bill is insecure, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Coming Out, Gay Stanley Uris, Light Angst, M/M, Stan isn’t happy, and so is stan, but they love each other - Freeform, georgie still dies tho, no pennywise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22034659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bourgeoisie/pseuds/the_bourgeoisie
Summary: there’s a bruise blossoming, dark purple and blue edged with a sickly yellow, across bill’s swollen cheekbone. the skin above his eyebrow is split, having been cut by the ring of the guy who hit him. the back of his shirt is sticky with liquor, and there’s a gash down the back of his upper arm from colliding with a broken beer bottle when he hit the ground. he’s aching all over, barely able to hold himself up where he sits on the edge of the bathtub.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 120





	on being a hero and being saved

There’s a bruise blossoming, dark purple and blue edged with a sickly yellow, across Bill’s swollen cheekbone. The skin above his eyebrow is split, having been cut by the ring of the guy who hit him. The back of his shirt is sticky with liquor, and there’s a gash down the back of his upper arm from colliding with a broken beer bottle when he hit the ground. He’s aching all over, barely able to hold himself up where he sits on the edge of the bathtub. 

_ Beverly had slipped off to the bathroom, leaving the guys in the middle of the floor to dance. Richie and Eddie existed in their own little world, Eddie’s hands intertwined at the back of Richie’s neck. Ben and Mike were ridiculously drunk, jumping and dancing along to every song, and singing poorly with the ones they recognized. Bill was drunk, sure, but not nearly as much as his friends. He was leaning up against Stan, who was stone cold sober as their designated driver for the night, and the two were swaying slowly together.  _

_ “Where’s Bev?” Stan asked, leaning down to whisper in Bill’s ear so he didn’t have to shout over the music. Usually he wouldn’t bother with keeping track of everyone, but because all of their friends were in sight except for Bev, that meant she was alone.  _

Bill winces when Stan presses an alcohol soaked cotton ball to the gash on his forehead. “Ouch.” He mumbles, absently picking at a thread on his jeans. In the midst of the fight, he had felt sober, but now that the adrenaline was out of his system the countless shots were coming back to him. He’s just dizzy enough to waver a little bit when Stan touches him. 

“If you can pick a fight you can handle the consequences.” Stan mumbles, though he doesn’t sound even a little annoyed. He had been mad when he had to round up their intoxicated friends after Bill got himself kicked out of the club, but he also understands why Bill did it. 

“He was gonna hurt Bev.” Bill says with a shrug, still avoiding eye contact. He’s staring at a chip in the tile closest to the bathroom door, one he’s never noticed before. Stan laughs softly and presses a kiss to his temple. His lips are cold, and he smells like the cigarette he shared with Beverly while he drove her home. This moment reminds him far too much of when they were teenagers. When he had to be fearless for the rest of them, and when Stan always got him out of trouble despite any anger he felt. 

_ Stan had left Eddie in charge of the group when he left. He dragged Bill by the hand towards the bar, and that’s where they found Beverly. She looked terrified, but her gaze was focused on the man seated beside her, as if she were scared to look anywhere else. He was talking, smiling, and had one hand on her knee.  _

_ Bill felt himself being yanked out of his drunken haze the minute he noticed the stranger slip something into Beverly’s drink. He jerked his hand away from Stanley and pushed through the clusters of drunk people to make his way towards the bar. The floor was covered in various alcohols, and he could feel his boots sticking to it with every step, but that was the last thing on his mind. _

_ “Oh, Bill-“ Bev started to speak, sounding relieved at the sight of her friend. There was no time for her to get another word out before Bill’s fist was colliding with the guy’s nose.  _

“I wish you didn’t always have to be a hero.” Stan says, and the sadness in his voice makes Bill wonder if he’s talking about more than just tonight. The harsh bathroom light makes the dark circles under Stan’s eyes even more apparent than usual, and Bill can’t help but think to himself that he must look terrible. 

“Don’t know why you put up with me.” Bill looks up at his boyfriend with a half smile that could be described as pathetic. He means it, though, because he truly doesn’t understand. Stan has always been cold and calculating, practical. Bill thought with his heart instead of his brain, and acted far too much on impulses. Impulses that, more often than not, had less than ideal outcomes. In Bill’s mind, it doesn’t make sense that someone as well-reasoned as Stan would want to be with him at all. 

“Cause I love you.” Stan says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and that makes Bill relax a little bit. He gently wipes the wetness left on Bill’s forehead from the rubbing alcohol, then offers him an ice pack for his cheek, which is no doubt aching by now. 

_ A man in an all black uniform dragged Bill out of the club by his elbow, and Beverly followed close behind. In the darkness of the street, she couldn’t see the bruise on his cheek, so she didn’t yet have anything to be worried about. Instead, she threw her arms around him in a sweet display of gratitude.  _

_ “You didn’t have to do that, Bill.” She whispered in his ear before she pulled away. She had promised Stanley she would wait out here until he came back with the others, and knowing how Richie behaved when he was drunk, that could take a while.  _

_ “I did. He put something in your drink. Even if I had just pulled you away from the situation, he would’ve done it to some other girl. I couldn’t live with that.” Bill shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground. He could hear her fumbling in her purse, then lighting a cigarette a few seconds later. She offered it to him after she had taken a few puffs, and he noticed her hands were shaking. He told himself it was from the cold, and not from the aftermath of what had just happened, but it was the middle of August. The last time he had a cigarette he had been nineteen, but something made him take it from her hand and take a long draw. _

__

Bill stands under the hot water, grateful for the relaxing sensation. His back is bruised from where he had been pushed to the ground, and the water seems to soothe the pain a little bit. 

It’s only a few minutes before Stan slips into the shower behind him, lanky arms wrapping lazily around his waist. Bill leans back into him, a faint smile crossing his face. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over how good it feels to feel so loved by someone. And, God, does he feel loved by Stan. 

“Don’t know why you thought you’d be able to take that guy.” Stan says, staring in disbelief at the dark bruises covering his shoulders and back. Bill is tall, but he’s also skinny, and the guy he’d hit was taller and broader. It was far too easy for him to knock Bill to the ground. 

“I didn’t. Just needed to do something.” Bill defends himself with a frown. He hates when Stan is disappointed in him, and this seems like one of those times. 

“You’re so headstrong sometimes it hurts.” Stan moves to look at the thick gash on the back of Bill’s arm, but Bill pulls away. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” And Stan nods. So they don’t talk about it. Bill leans into his arms, and doesn’t want to move even when the water begins to run cold.

_ Stan came out in the middle of the summer between eighth grade and freshman year. He had told Bill first, thinking it wouldn’t be so nerve wracking if he didn’t tell everyone all at once.  _

_ “S-So? I’m pretty sure E-Ed-Eddie and Richie have a thing g-going on themselves, and it’s not like a-an-any of the others are going to care.” Bill was laying on Stan’s bed with his head hanging off the end. Stan was pacing back and forth, bursting at the seams with nervousness because their friends were coming over in thirty minutes and he was terrified to tell them.  _

_ “You wouldn’t get it, Bill. It’s horrifying.” Stan said, frustration evident in his voice. Bill grabbed one of the bed posts and pulled himself into a sitting position. The blood rushing out of his head made him dizzy, but he steadied himself.  _

_ “What m-muh-makes you think I wouldn’t g-g-get it?” _

_ “You’ve never had to come out to anyone. You’re straight. You get to be exactly what everyone already thinks you are.” Stan didn’t mean for the comment to leave his mouth with so much spite, and he almost wanted to take it back the minute he said it. Bill laughed, the side of his head pressed against the cool wood of the bedpost.  _

_ “I’m n-not st-st-straight, Stanley.” He said it like he would say it was raining outside, and Stan envied his confidence then more than ever. He hated that Bill always got to be the brave one. “A-And it’s n-not a big deal. Everyone l-luh-loves you, no m-m-matter what. Just b-because you can’t s-see that doesn’t m-muh-mean it isn’t true.” _

That night, Bill is in bed with his head on Stan’s chest. He can’t sleep, still a bit shaken up from the events of the night. 

“I have to do what I can to make up for the times I haven’t been able to do anything.” Bill says, breaking the silence of their room. Stan had been quiet for a while, but Bill knew he wasn’t asleep. It was usually almost impossible for Stan to fall asleep unless Bill was sleeping first. 

“What?” Stan opens his eyes slowly, his voice thick from going unused for a while. Bill sits up, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. The darkness of the room is heavy, and that gives him more confidence to say what’s on his mind. 

“You said you wish I didn’t try to be a hero all the time.” Stan reaches out his hand, and Bill takes it gladly. “But I have to. I have to do something when I can, to make up for all the times I couldn’t do anything.” The unspoken end to that sentence hangs in the air between them, and Stan knows he’s thinking about Georgie. 

“I know. And I understand. I just wish that being the hero didn’t mean you had to get hurt.” In the dark, Stan’s free hand finds the curve of Bill’s jaw, and his thumb brushes light as a feather over the fresh bruise that he had been icing just hours ago. Bill leans into the touch. He can’t remember a time when Stan’s touch had been anything but kind. 

_ In the months after Georgie died, Bill and Stan had been inseparable. Stan was the only thing keeping Bill on Earth. As much as he loved his friends, he hardly felt grounded by Richie’s crude jokes or Eddie’s constant state of panic.  _

_ He spent the six month anniversary of his brother’s death in Stan’s bedroom, staring blankly at the ceiling as he sprawled on the bed. The sheets beneath him were well made, tucked tightly into each corner, and by Stan’s instructions Bill had removed his shoes, tucking them away behind the door. Stan was studying for his Bar Mitzvah, not paying Bill much attention, but that was fine. Bill much preferred Stanley’s silent company to the constant judgement and sorrow that filled his own home. His parents didn’t care where he was anymore, it almost felt as though they were hoping Bill would go missing as well.  _

_ “Are you staying for dinner?” Stan asked, looking up from his desk. Bill sat up and was about to respond, when instead he found himself breaking down into tears. It took him by surprise, but he supposed the outpour of emotions was well deserved based on the kind of day that day was.  _

_ Stan pulled himself away from the desk and crossed the room in two steps to sit next to Bill on the bed. “It’s okay.” Stan said simply. Stan was always simple, and most of the time that was exactly what Bill needed. He cupped Bill’s face in his hands, wiping the tears from under his eyes with his thumbs, then wrapped him in a hug. At that moment, even though he didn’t know it yet, Bill started to fall in love with Stan. _


End file.
